


Codebreakers

by kawree



Category: Wreck-It Ralph (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawree/pseuds/kawree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a power surge sends the Core Four's tram into uncharted territory and the arcade into a blackout, the gang finds themselves trapped with no way to get back to Central.  They come to discover, however, that getting home is the least of their worries.  There's a dark secret lurking within the walls of Litwak's arcade... a secret that has spent the past six years just waiting for the right opportunity to make itself known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ralph discovers speeding isn't what causes painful accidents, it's the sudden stop at the end.

  
Ralph stumbled and caught himself on the wall, one massive hand on his face and a groan stuck in the back of his throat. The world was still spinning in front of his eyes and he was legitimately concerned about falling off the floor at this point.

"Remind me to never do that again," he said, making a grunting sound as Vanellope clicked her tongue from her perch on his shoulder.

"I told you not to get carried away," she chided, "but no~ you assured me you could handle it. What a lightweight."

"You're not even really _old_ enough for that sort of thing," he snapped; "how could you possibly be better at it than me?"

She rolled her eyes and gestured to herself. "Ah, racing game, a- _doy_ ; I can pull like 3g's cornering on the main track! Age has nothing to do with it, genius. If you really thought you'd be able to beat me in a space ship then your brain's even stinkier than I thought and you should get a refund. And maybe go back to driving school."

"Hey, I _told_ you, something was wrong with my ship and it had nothing to do with my driving ability, okay? Remember who taught _you_ how to drive again, pip-squeak," he said, giving her an affected glower and then stumbling forward again when he received a hard clap on the back. He gave another pained groan and covered his mouth this time. Armor or no armor, Sergeant Calhoun packed a mean punch, whether it was friendly or not.

"Remind _me_ to never give you permission to borrow a shuttle, Wreck-It," Tamora said with a shake of her head, her thumbs hooked into the belt-loops of her cargo khakis. "I might have been willing to give you another shot and write off the first incident as cy-bug interference, but after that display I think I'm revoking your license before you even get it issued."

Ralph declined comment, instead opting to just squeeze his eyes closed and clamp his hand over the crown of his head. Even in civvies, she never cut anybody a break.

"You're not gonna ralph again, are ya, Ralph?" Vanellope asked, sniggering. She waved a hand at him. "Get it?"

He glowered again. "Yes, I get it."

"'Cuz like... you totally ralphed back there."

"I _said_ I get it."

"Ralphin' Ralph--"

"I think he gets it, Vanellope," Felix piped up, and Ralph sighed gratefully as Vanellope turned her attention to further explaining the joke to the rest of their party instead, making a point to mention that he'd obviously had carrots with lunch.

Ugh, why had he thought this was a good idea in the first place? Sure, greeting a new game was kind of tradition, but the second Vanellope had squealed that there was a spaceship racing game being installed adjacent to _Sugar Rush_ Ralph had been apprehensive. Driving a kart was one thing, but he didn't exactly have a good track record with aerial vehicles. The sergeant _still_ gave him a hard time about losing her old cruiser in the eruption of Diet Cola Mountain.

_Space Odyssey 4_ was a pretty cool game, though, he had to admit, even as he still felt a bit nauseous. Seriously, there _had_ to have been a problem with the ship he'd been driving. He was pretty sure it was completely counter-intuitive to have a craft that did nothing but a continuous barrel roll for the entire course (though, remarkably, the defense stats on it had been through the roof).

"You okay there, brother?" Felix's voice broke through his musing, and Ralph glanced down at him. It was still odd, he thought, the complete 180 everyone had done after the incident in _Sugar Rush_. He wasn't sure he would ever get completely used to the Nicelanders being, well, _nice_ to him. Felix had never been _mean_ to him, really, even before they'd become friends, but the concern in the other man's eyes still caught him off guard sometimes.

"Sure, yeah, I'll... guh." He squeezed his eyes closed and leaned on the wall again. "I'm fine. I'm just... never gonna eat again."

"Pfff, like that'll happen," Vanellope snorted, grabbing one of his fingers when he let his arm drop to his side. She tugged him forward. "Come on, quit your lolligagging," she scolded.

"It's not like we have to hurry," Tamora pointed out, and Ralph looked at her out of the corner of his eye as she checked the watch on her wrist. "Arcade's closed tomorrow anyway, remember?"

"Oh, that's right, Mr. Litwak's getting that damaged section of the carpet replaced," said Felix. 

"About time," Tamora said with a shake of her head. "I still can't believe that kid was even allowed inside with a milkshake that size; it was an accident waiting to happen."

A big grin split Felix's face then and he looked excitedly from Tamora to Ralph and then back. "Well that's kind of exciting, though--it's not often we really get a day off. We should plan something!" 

Ralph pushed away from the wall. "I'll pass," he said, a hand over his abdomen. "I didn't even have anything to drink tonight and I have a feeling I'm gonna be hung over tomorrow."

"Oh come on, Ralph, are you really gonna waste a free day bein' sick?" Felix asked, looking disappointed.

"You weren't the one stuck in a corkscrew the whole time," he retorted.

Tamora rolled her eyes. "Wreck-It, do you know how much g-force a marine has to be able to withstand?" She paused for half an instant, then jerked her chin to one side. "Tell him, Markowski."

" _Sir_!" came the barked response, and both Felix and Vanellope jumped. Ralph just sighed long-sufferingly. Right, he'd almost forgotten they'd brought Steven Markowski along for this little venture. The sergeant had insisted that he could use the practice. Ralph wasn't sure he was ever going to get used to calling him 'Steve' like he'd asked, even though they had sort of become drinking buddies at Tapper's.

Both soldiers had nixed their power armor for the evening and were wearing civilian clothing, but it seemed that while you could take the marines out of _Hero's Duty_ you couldn't quite take the _Hero's Duty_ out of the marines. 

The big man saluted Tamora crisply and then continued, "The average space-launch only produces about 3-4g's of force, however much higher forces can be achieved during shuttle flight and re-entry. A space marine is required to be able to withstand up to 7g's for a duration of five consecutive minutes without armor or a pressure suit, and up to 15g's for that span of time _with_."

"Very good, Markowski," Tamora said, and then gave Ralph a dry look before walking past him with another fond slap on the back of his shoulder. "Barrel-rolls like that are child's play; you wouldn't last a week in basic training."

"Hey, now, don't give him any ideas, Sarge," Steven snickered; "he might just enlist."

"Hah hah, very funny," Ralph grumbled, finally feeling like maybe he could walk more than three steps without staggering dizzily against the wall. "You guys can keep your pilot licenses _and_ your stinkin' medal. I got a better one, anyway."

Vanellope gave his finger another tug then and he glanced down at her. She gave him a big conspiratorial grin, and he couldn't help but laugh. Yeah, okay, maybe a ten-minute barrel roll was worth it to see her smile like that. He still had that cookie medal she'd made for him, of course; he carried it everywhere.

As the five of them clambered into the tram that would take them back to Game Central Station, Ralph leaned back against the seat and cast Tamora an inquiring look.

"What time is it, anyhow?" he asked, and Tamora held up her wrist to show him her watch, but he couldn't quite make out the time from his seat. "I expected there to be more folks checking out the new game, but we're the only ones here," he continued, squinting a moment at her wrist and then giving up.

"There were more people there earlier," Steven said, propping his ankle on the opposite knee and draping his arms across the seat back. "We were kinda late to the party."

"No thanks to you," Tamora said sidelong to him, kicking his foot down from its post on his knee. "Here I thought Fix-It would be the difficult one to motivate into climbing into a space ship. You call yourself a marine?"

Steven harrumphed. "I didn't see any sign-offs from their mechanics," he insisted; "there was no way to know whether or not those crafts were actually space-worthy."

"Well, I'm pretty sure _mine_ wasn't," Ralph said, shaking his head. "He might be on to something."

"Don't tell him that," Tamora said, "you'll only encourage him."

"Are we really not going to talk about how _Felix_ was the best competition I _had_ in that last race?" Vanellope asked then, scrabbling to her feet to rest her elbows on the seatback as the tram lurched forward. "I mean, I figured _Ralph_ wasn't gonna be a problem--"

"Hey!"

"--but I _never_ would have guessed that Felix here would be such a natural!"

Felix laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, then tugged his hat off his head. "Well, Jeannie's taught me a thing or two about flying the shuttle," he said, and Steven whistled.

"Giving private lessons now, Sarge?" he asked, and Felix made a wordless choking noise somewhere between a gasp and a cough.

"Only when the student actually shows potential," she replied without missing a beat, and Steven's cocky grin faded quickly.

Vanellope laughed loudly. "Oooh, Marky-Mark got thrown in the double-boiler," she snickered.

"Hey, that's _Markowski_ to you, single shot," Steven replied with good-natured warning in his voice.

"Single shot?" Vanellope balled her tiny fists and shadowboxed beside Ralph, who just sighed and held one hand out to act as a guardrail as the tram took a corner. Vanellope bumped against his palm, but recovered quickly, hopping back and forth as they neared the station. "Say that to my face, big man; I got yer shot right here."

The rest of the conversation mostly faded out as Ralph leaned back against the seat again. He was still a little woozy from that last involuntary continuous barrel roll, and he couldn't quite decide if the motion of the tram was relaxing or making him feel nauseated again. The voices of his friends sort of bled together into a nondescript buzz of joking and laughter.

That was about the time another sort of noise crept into the soundscape. Ralph liked to think he was a little more observant than people tended to give him credit for. Surely he was no trained scout or anything, but he paid more attention than people seemed to think, and as the peculiar sound grew louder his forehead knit together above his still-closed eyes.

It wasn't loud, but it was distinctive: a low, staticky sort of hiss. Ralph thought to himself that it sort of sounded like a whole bunch of velcro being pulled apart at once, from really far away. ... Actually it seemed like it was getting louder. It seemed like it was getting louder really quickly.

"Hey, put a sock in it for a second, Markowski." Tamora's voice broke clear of the general clamor of talking, and Ralph opened his eyes to see that she'd sat up very straight, one of her hands raised near her face in a fist.

"You hear it too?" he asked, and she glanced at him.

"What _is_ that?" she asked.

As they rounded the last corner to pull into Game Central Station, the noise grew so loud that Vanellope grimaced and covered her ears. Before any of them could posit on what could be the source of the strange sudden clamor, though, everything went dark. The lighting in the wires tended to be low anyway, but it was as if all the illumination had just blown at once. Ralph gasped sharply and lowered his hand to his side, blindly reaching for the little girl beside him, but before he managed to grab her the world was yanked out from under him.

It was as though the whole tram had been violently kicked from behind. The car lurched forward sharply, throwing him against the side of the seat, and he felt Vanellope crash into his ribs with a sharp cry of alarm. Closing one big hand around her to keep her from flying out of the car, Ralph gripped the side with his other hand for all he was worth. The clatter of the rails was deafening, and it was too dark to see if the others were still on the tram or not--he couldn't even tell how fast they were moving. 

The wind whipped at his hair and made his eyes water, though keeping them open didn't seem to be very useful at the moment. Had they missed the station? What had happened? He couldn't see anyone or anything in the blackness, couldn't hear over the screech of the tram and the overpowering sound of static. The tram quivered and shook, rattling as though it were moving over gravel or uneven cobblestone. That didn't make any sense--the routes through the wires were all smooth!

There was a rush of cold air and the scream of the rails quieted abruptly, like the acoustics of the tunnel had suddenly just been completely destroyed. Though the dark hadn't lifted, Ralph had a keen sense that suddenly everything around them had gotten... _bigger_ somehow. He didn't really have a chance to think on it. The next thing he knew, he was flying through the air as the tram slammed to a stop, and he twisted sharply to cradle Vanellope against his chest. The sound of crushing metal and splintering wood filling his ears and grated against the insides of his skull, and then there was a loud popping sound as the ground he couldn't see rose up to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wanted to include Markowski cuz he needs more love. he has no canon first name but i had to figure the character name was an homage to Steve Markowski, WIR's 'story watchdog', so it seemed as good a given name as any.
> 
> um! other than that, welcome to the fic and i hope you enjoy your stay! this will eventually be... fairly long i think, though i can't say for certain how many chapters i'm expecting to have. i ship the hell out of Felix and Calhoun but the ship in and of itself isn't really the focal point of the story, though it'll be fairly prominent. just cuz, that's... you know, half the protagonists. there shouldn't be anything too warning-worthy, but there'll be some darker themes and a sideswipe of the horror genre.
> 
> bluh, i wasn't sure i was ready to start posting yet but i figured if i didn't i would lose my nerve. feedback makes my day! also super thanks to my lovely friend mochi for all her brainstorming help for this story!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vanellope finds a familiar face in the darkness... and then a whole bunch of _un_ familiar ones.

She awoke to the peculiar sensation of the world being upside-down. Her eyes fluttered open, but it was really too dark to see much of anything but vague shapes and fuzzy shadows. What had happened?

Oh, right, the tram had crashed. Man, she hadn't even known that the trams could _go_ that fast! Had there been some kind of power surge or something? If it hadn't been so scary, it might have been awesome.

With a grunt, Vanellope shifted carefully and realized it wasn't the world that was upside-down: _she_ was. She was sprawled on her back atop a pile of what appeared to be broken pieces of old computer parts and wires, the whole mess at a steep incline. She rolled over and checked to make sure all her limbs were still attached, then sat back on her knees and brushed her hair out of her face.

"Owww..." 

Her head ached a bit, but it seemed she was still all in one piece, at least. Squinting in the darkness and shading her eyes (though what from, she couldn't say), Vanellope peered into the obscurity. Where was everyone else?

"Ralph?" she called, surprised when her voice echoed around her. She was quiet for a moment to listen for a response, then got to her feet when she received none. "Ra~~alph!" Nothing but an echo was returned, and she huffed softly. Well, standing on top of this hill yelling wasn't going to do any good. It was too dark to really move with confidence, but she could see well enough to avoid taking a dive as she minced carefully down the hill of debris.

At the base of the hill there was what looked like the leftover ruins of what had once been a road, but far more in spirit than in execution. Mostly it was just a beaten path between additional piles of rubbish and broken electronic parts, but it was hard to really see for sure where it led. The air was stagnant; it felt like nothing had moved out here for _years_ and she was the first thing to break the stillness, and the heaviness of the air almost pulled tangibly at her.

"Ralph! Felix!" She listened again for a response from her friends, but heard nothing save the reverberations of her own voice. From the sound of it, this place was _big;_ bigger even than the inside of Diet Cola Mountain had been. She had been known to play with the echoes inside the hollow mountain and had gotten quite adept at singing rounds with herself, but the vocal rebounds here were far more delayed. This place was a _lot_ bigger than inside the mountain. "Sarge? Marky-Mark! Come on, you guys, I know you don't think you can beat me at hide and seek so don't even try, okay?"

Still nothing.

Vanellope refused to admit that she was suddenly a little nervous. If she had been thrown from the tram when it had crashed, logically the others had, too, right? Why didn't they answer? Had they fallen from the car back in the tunnels?

Was she here alone?

No, that couldn't be right. Ralph had been holding onto her until they'd slammed to a stop, after all. He must have been knocked out when they hit the ground, and she'd been thrown free of his grip.

Lifting her free hand to cup beside her mouth, she called for her companions again, louder this time. Her hands moved up beside her ears, hoping to amplify any sound that might be an inkling of familiar voices.

She wasn't disappointed this time.

"Von Schweetz, is that you?"

Her whole face lit up at the faint sound of the sergeant's voice and she whirled toward it. Or... wait, was it over there? Rats, everything in this place echoed.

"Sarge? It's me, I'm-- _oof_!" She stumbled over a raised wire and pitched forward, sort of sliding halfway down the hill before scrabbling back to her feet and dashing ahead again. "I'm over here!"

Vanellope wasn't afraid of the dark, and she wasn't afraid of being somewhere she wasn't familiar with... but being _alone_ in the dark in a place she wasn't familiar with was a bit more than she was prepared to swallow all at once.

She saw a thin beam of light against the dusty ground ahead and hurried toward it, sliding out from behind a mound of broken plastic and metal bits. She raised a hand to block the brightness as the flashlight beam shifted to her face, then gasped sharply.

"--Whoa! Don't shoot, copper, I'm unarmed!" she said, throwing her arms up when she caught sight of Tamora's gun trained on her. The sergeant sighed gustily and let her arms fall to her sides.

"Von Schweetz, you should know better than to sneak up on an armed marine," she complained, shoving the gun back into the holster beneath her leather jacket.

Vanellope made a face. "Well, sorry, Sarge, I didn't figure it counted as sneaking when I was making enough noise to wake the dead," she said dryly, and Tamora just arched an eyebrow in retort.

"It's hard to tell where anything you can hear is coming from," she said by way of explanation, shining her little flashlight across the crumbling remnants of the road. "Everything echoes off everything else around here; I could have sworn you were coming from the other side of this path."

Vanellope nodded, dusting her knees off and moving a bit closer to the sergeant. "I can't even tell how big this place is," she said. "The echoes are too... wobbly."

The flashlight beam bounced, then lifted away from the ground, and Vanellope glanced up to see Tamora shining it straight up over their heads. Dust swirled and twisted in the beam of light, then the column of illumination filtered away into nothing in the darkness. She couldn't see any sign of a ceiling at all.

"This whole area actually seems unenclosed," Tamora said, lowering the flashlight and frowning down at Vanellope. "Wherever we are, it's no place I've seen or heard about." She paused, then shone the flashlight at Vanellope's feet. "You okay there, kiddo?"

"Yup, still all in one piece," Vanellope replied, doing a spin where she stood and then holding her arms out to show the sergeant that she still had all of her fingers. "You?"

Tamora snorted. "I've definitely seen worse wrecks than that," she said, and Vanellope hid a laugh behind one hand.

"Ralph's don't count," she said, and Tamora just turned her flashlight beam in the direction the girl had come from.

"Speaking of, did you see the guys anywhere?" She slowly dragged the flashlight beam across the darkened landscape, but it was difficult to make much of anything out. "I woke up by myself and you're the first one I've run into."

Vanellope shook her head, furrowing her brow a bit. "No, I was alone, too," she said, taking a handful of Tamora's pantleg and inching closer to her. "Do you think they're okay?"

"I'm sure they're fine," Tamora replied, maybe a little too quickly. "Besides Fix-It, you and I are the lightest in the group, so it's not surprising we might have been thrown farther with the impact."

Vanellope brought a hand to her face, covering her mouth in thought. 'Besides Fix-It', she'd said, but that begged the question, where _was_ Felix? If the two of them had been thrown to a similar location because of their size, Felix should have been nearby. She didn't want to ask, though. Vanellope knew the sergeant well enough by now to know when asking certain questions would be met with gnashing teeth, and this was definitely one of those types of questions. 

"Well, I guess we'd better start looking," Tamora said, and glanced down at Vanellope, a slightly forced grin tugging at her lips. "Right?"

"Well they're obviously not gonna find them _selves_ ," she snickered.

Tamora took a step forward and the cloth of her khakis was tugged from Vanellope's grip. She quickly fell into stride alongside her, glancing up every so often as if to make sure the older woman was still there. The ground was uneven and shifted beneath their feet, an unnerving crunching sort of sound filling the air as they moved, like walking over particularly crunchy leaves, and the dust from the movement made dancing shapes and twisting flourishes in the beam of the flashlight.

Vanellope was quickly figuring out that while she rarely had a problem keeping up with people on flat, solid ground, it was significantly more difficult to match the sergeant's pace across this rugged, variable landscape. The dark wasn't making it any easier, either. At one point as Tamora stepped over a raised chunk of plastic, Vanellope found herself face-down in her wake.

"Stupid dumb plastic ground," she grumbled, sitting up and dusting herself off. She heard the crunch of the ground again as Tamora backtracked, and gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry," she said; "had a little torque-dysfunction on that one. Maybe I need new tires."

"I think your shocks and struts just aren't really made for this sort of terrain," Tamora replied, reaching down and grabbing a handful of the back of Vanellope's hoodie. "So maybe you'd do better riding shotgun this time."

And with that she hefted Vanellope into the air and sort of plunked her awkwardly down on her shoulder. It was a bit unexpected, but the sergeant was little if not efficient, and this would definitely make it a lot easier going. She was used to hitching a ride on Ralph's shoulders, which were significantly broader than Tamora's, but she could make this work. After taking a moment to consider her options, Vanellope quickly arranged herself to sit behind Tamora's neck, hands on either side of her head and her feet dangling at her collarbone.

"Buckled in?" Tamora asked, sounding amused, and Vanellope tweaked at a lock of the sergeant's hair.

"Well, it's no Aston Martin, but it'll do."

"Sorry to disappoint, kid, but I didn't bring my cruiser," she replied with a snicker. "Markowski's got one, but until we happen across him, you're stuck with the more basic model."

"Eh, desperate times, and all that," Vanellope said, and tapped the crown of Tamora's head. "Onward, valiant steed!"

She could practically _feel_ the sergeant roll her eyes.

They marched on in silence for another twenty yards or so before Tamora paused and craned her neck a bit. "I think I can see where the tram crashed," she said, gesturing with the flashlight. Then she turned and shone the beam back in the direction they'd come from, and gave a low, impressed whistle. "Man, we got thrown like _pigskins_."

"Touchdooown," Vanellope said softly, lifting her hands over her head, but the levity was mostly lost when that unnerving crunching sound met their ears again. Footsteps. But... they hadn't moved. Something or some _one_ else was moving somewhere nearby. Vanellope exhaled softly and tapped the sergeant's head again. "Do you hear that too?"

"Uh huh. Just be still."

Tamora turned and shone the flashlight to one side, then the other, and Vanellope gnawed at her lower lip. The sergeant had been right: it was nearly impossible to tell which direction any sound was coming from, with all the hills of rubble around them. Everything seemed to echo from every direction, and it was downright nerve-wracking.

"Do... you think maybe that's the guys?" Vanellope asked, and Tamora turned her flashlight in the other direction. More rubble, more jumping shadows, but nothing that seemed to be alive. Where was the sound coming from?

"I dunno," she said. "I'd _like_ to think it is, but the truth is those buffoons would probably be making a lot more noise."

Sometimes Vanellope absolutely hated how blunt Tamora could be. Really, would it have killed her to just play along?

Another quarter-turn and Tamora froze, the beam of the flashlight catching a flicker of movement from behind a nearby stack of battered, broken plastic. Vanellope subconsciously leaned back a little. There was something there, sort of hunkered in the shadows. It looked like a human figure. No, maybe there were two. Three? She couldn't quite tell.

"What's that?" Vanellope asked, squinting as the beam of the flashlight swept laterally across the area. "Is... are those people?"

Tamora didn't answer, but took a halting half-step back. Vanellope gasped when the light caught another figure, and another. Five... six? There were at least a dozen, all moving slowly toward them. Their clothes were torn and hanging off their bodies, which were bony at best and looked almost semi-transparent in the darkness. It was almost as if their bodies had been half-erased, but that couldn't be right. Were they ghosts? Extras from one of the horror-survival games on the far side of the arcade? She had met the zombie that Ralph was friends with, but these creatures didn't look anything like him. 

More than that, what were they doing out here, whatever this place was?

"Where did they come from?" she asked. "They look like wannabe zombies or something--when I said I was making enough noise to wake the dead I didn't actually mean _literally._ " 

Tamora shook her head, reaching into her jacket to pull her gun as she backed up another step, glancing over her shoulder as she met an incline. They were at the base of another hill of debris, taller and steeper than the others, and from the look of things, they were surrounded by the crowd of shambling figures on all other sides.

Nutter butters, this was _not_ good.

"Sarge, what _are_ they?" Vanellope's voice was tight with alarm as she lost count of the number in the undulating throng. They were only partially distinguishable, their translucent bodies all sort of fading together; they kind of looked like a big shifting blob of gelatin, and not even the tasty kind.

"I'm not sure, kid," Tamora replied, checking the clip in her gun, "but something tells me they're not the welcoming committee."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Felix finds himself in a bit of a pinch.

Felix was no stranger to pain. He spent most of his days getting conked on the head with bricks, after all, and even though it took a good number of hits to really take him down, it certainly wasn't his favorite part of the job. He still remembered quite clearly just how much it had _hurt_ that first week they were plugged in, before the players really knew what they were doing, before they got the hang of the joystick... oh, he'd suffered through some rotten awful headaches that week.

Thankfully, he never had to suffer for too long; after each round it was easy enough to fix whatever damage had been done with a quick knock from his hammer, after all. It was the best sort of bandaid ever! Needless to say, when Felix awoke to a dull, throbbing pain throughout his whole body, his first thought was that _wow_ he needed to fix that.

Opening his eyes, he gasped sharply in alarm when nothing but darkness met them. For a horrifying instant he was terrified he'd somehow gone blind. Reflexively he snapped a hand up in front of his face and waggled it back and forth, sighing with relief when the dark, grainy outline of his fingers was visible in the obscurity. Oh, good, he wasn't blind, it was just really dark out.

What had happened? He remembered being on the tram, chatting with the gang, and then there was a strange noise... Right, and then the whole train had just gone all haywire. He hoped the others were all right.

Felix shifted his arms beneath him to try and sit up, and suddenly the world flashed in red and black and his vision filled with stars. With a yelp of pain his arms gave out and he flopped back to the ground, gasping. 

What in land's name was wrong? His entire leg had just exploded in pain with the slightest movement! This was new--he knew headaches well enough, and he'd taken a dive or two from the higher floors of the apartment building thanks to a novice player here and there, but this sort of sudden excruciating pain was completely foreign to him. He felt like he was being _crushed_!

Gritting his teeth and craning his neck to try and look at his leg, a lance of alarm shot through his insides. He couldn't see too clearly in the darkness, but there was no mistaking the hulking shape of the tram car; that feeling of being crushed wasn't too far off, it seemed. His leg was pinned beneath the wreckage. He was stuck. He was trapped! There was no way he would be able to pull his leg out from beneath the heavy tram car! What was he going to do now?

Wait, maybe there was still a chance. Surely _Ralph_ could lift the car.

Taking a deep breath and holding it a moment to try and block the panic that wanted to well up in his gut, Felix exhaled audibly and let his head fall back against the ground.

"R-Ralph?" His voice was thin with pain and heavy with fear. "Ralph, brother, can you hear me?"

He paused a moment to listen, yet received nothing in return but the quavering echoes of his own voice. He gnawed on his lower lip as that panic tried to rise up in the back of his throat again, then clenched his hands into fists. Okay, he could figure this out. This was no time to lose his head.

Taking another deep breath, Felix tried to sit up again, but only wound up gasping in pain with the movement. Oh, pixels and bits, his leg was really in a bad way; how was he going to get out of this one if he couldn't even _move_?

"Ralph?" he called again. "Vanellope?" He whimpered softly and let his head fall back into the dirt again. "Jeannie...? _Anybody_?"

Where was everyone else? Surely they were okay, right? It... it was impossible that he was the only one who had survived, right? _Right?_ Tamora was way tougher than he was--she _had_ to be okay.

That urge to panic was really starting to get the better of him. His hands were shaking and clammy, and he had to make a concerted effort to keep from hyperventilating. Felix was a resourceful fellow--he had to be, it was part of his job--but when his options were this limited, what was he supposed to do? He was sure he could use his hammer to repair whatever damage had been done to his leg, but not until he was free of the overturned tram.

He squeezed his eyes closed and dug his gloved fingers into the ground. This was hopeless! He was trapped, he was alone, and there was nothing he could do to get free! Was he going to be stuck out here until he _died_? What would happen first? Would he starve? Would he be devoured by a rogue program out here in... wherever he was? Would the injury damage his code to the point where he would just disappear? He'd never been in this sort of situation before, but he'd heard about people whose programming had been damaged beyond repair. Would anyone ever know what even _happened_ to him?

His heartbeat was so deafening in his ears that he didn't even hear the approach of footsteps until a hulking silhouette appeared in his peripheral vision. Felix let out a yowl of fear and covered his face with both arms. This was it! Devoured by a rogue program it was! He would never see his dear wife again! He would never make it back to his game and all the Nicelanders would be homeless when they unplugged the cabinet, and it would be all his fault because he was just too useless to get himself unstuck!

"Felix?"

The voice was like a blast of cold air, startling him out of his panicked frenzy, and he snapped his eyes open. The looming shape above him sharpened into focus, and Felix let out a noise not entirely unlike a sob.

"Ralph--brother, is that you?" He rubbed both eyes and then let out a peal of distraught, relieved laughter. "Oh, my stars, I thought my time was up! I'm so glad to see you--are you okay?"

Ralph rubbed the crown of his head and nodded, dropping to a crouch beside Felix. "I'm fine," he said. "Think I chipped a tooth, but it's not like I was gonna win Perfect Smile of the Week anyway." Ralph's brow furrowed in concern. "Are _you_ okay? You, ah... were looking pretty frantic there when I walked up."

"I--" 

Felix cut himself off and bit the corners of his mouth. He hated to feel like a bother to anyone--he was supposed to be the one to take care of things, right? He wanted to tell Ralph he was fine and everything was great and all they had to do was find the others and they could all go home, but... it was a lie! And Felix couldn't lie! The fact of the matter was he needed Ralph's help and he knew it and he was right back in that jail cell in _Sugar Rush_ again, feeling lost and useless and just plain sorry for himself.

"I'm stuck pretty good," he admitted weakly, unable to look Ralph in the eye. It wasn't so much that he thought Ralph would indict him for the situation, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to make eye contact when he was feeling so utterly helpless. "My leg... is pinned beneath the tram there." He swallowed hard and gave Ralph a pleading look. "Do you think you can lift it?"

Ralph looked startled, quickly jumping back to his feet. "Holy moly, Felix, why didn't you say so in the first place?" he cried, moving quickly to the mangled wreckage and running his hands along the edge, seemingly looking for a good handhold. "Hang tight, buddy, I'll get this off'a ya, no problem."

"W-wait, Ralph don't just--!"

Felix's voice died in his throat when Ralph hefted the tram up and sent it tipping back upright and off of the handyman's leg. The sudden _absence_ of pressure was actually more painful than the brief stab of agony he'd felt when he'd tried to move before, and as Ralph dusted his hands off, undoubtedly looking pleased with himself, Felix nearly swallowed his tongue trying not to howl in pain. Instead, he just made a wordless keening noise, and Ralph quickly dropped to his knees beside him.

"Felix? Wait, what's wrong now?" Ralph gasped, his colossal hands hovering over his friend. "What happened?"

"N... nothing, it's... it's fine," Felix wheezed, clenching his jaw and squeezing his eyes closed. Really, the tram would have had to have come off anyway; this way was better! Rip off the band-aid, right? He would have been stuck under there indefinitely without Ralph's help, so he wasn't about to complain, no matter how much the sudden change in pressure had hurt. Taking a deep breath and holding it a moment, Felix dug his fingers into the ground.

Okay, all he needed was his hammer. If he could just get the hammer he could fix the whole problem and the pain would go away. Oh, jiminy, he was getting lightheaded now, though--better fix it quickly.

Reaching for the tool belt at his hip, Felix floundered a moment, trying to get a grip on the handle of the hammer. ... Why couldn't he seem to find it? It should have been right there, in the loop on his right side, easily within reach like always! Another lance of panic streaked through his insides as he lifted his head to try and peer through the darkness.

"Ralph, I can't find my hammer," he said. "It-it isn't in my belt!"

No. No, it _had_ to be there! It was _always_ there, always there when he needed it! And oh, _boy_ did he need it right now. How was he going to fix this horrible pain in his leg without it!?

"What?" Ralph sounded dismayed, and Felix heard the big man shift. There was a scraping sound, and he had to assume Ralph was dragging his hands across the ground to help locate the hammer. "It's gotta be here," he said; "it's not like it could just get up and walk away."

"It... must have been thrown free of my belt in the crash," Felix said, more in horrified realization than in direct response to Ralph's words.

Ralph grunted, then was at Felix's side again. "Well, we'll find it," he said sternly, and Felix gave his friend a worried look.

"It's too dark to really search for it properly," he said, dread and hopelessness creeping into his voice. "Without a light of some sort--"

"Well, I'm sure Calhoun and Markowski have a flashlight or a flare or something," Ralph said. "Those two are always prepared like that, right? So all we've gotta do is find them, and then we can find your hammer and fix that leg of yours right up."

Felix swallowed a worried lump in the back of his throat. "Then... you should go look for them," he said, closing his eyes again. 

"Felix, I'm not just gonna _leave_ you here," Ralph said after a brief pause in which Felix could practically _hear_ the gears turning in his friend's head. "I mean, what if something happened while I was gone? I'd feel awful!"

"Ralph, I don't think I can even _move_ ," he said. "My leg's busted up something fierce, and even if it's not completely broken, I'm pretty sure I can't walk on it." Just the thought of moving was almost enough to make him feel sick to his stomach; he didn't even want to contemplate trying to _walk_.

Ralph paused, then Felix heard him move again.

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to carry you," he said, and Felix tried to meet his eye in the darkness.

The truth was that Felix was _relieved_ at the offer--the idea of staying there in the dark and unable to move was frankly terrifying!--but he still felt like a terrible bother. On top of that, Ralph wasn't really known for being _gentle_ , either; he wasn't sure hitching a ride was the best course of action. In the end, though, Ralph made a good point: what if something _did_ happen while he was gone? Felix was no combatant, really. Sure, he'd run a few rounds through _Hero's Duty_ with Tamora, but while he'd found he had fairly good aim for a rookie, he was confident his hand-to-hand skills weren't up to snuff, especially if he couldn't even stand up.

"I know what you're thinking," Ralph said when the silence protracted, tugging Felix out of his morose thoughts, "and you can just stop right now. It's not like you're heavy or anything, so stop trying to come up with an excuse and just... let me help you."

There were times when Felix truly felt ashamed at the way he had ignored Ralph all those years, just writing him off as the token villain and mostly leaving him to his own devices. He'd never been _cruel_ to him, but... he'd never really been as kind as he could have been. As volatile as he knew Ralph's temper could be, Felix had never really been _afraid_ of him; it had just seemed the way of things! Felix was the hero and Ralph was the villain and never the twain shall meet! He'd been missing out on a wonderful friend for thirty years, and sometimes he just wished he could go back in time and, well, _fix_ that.

With a resigned sigh, Felix nodded.

"Okay," he said. "Let's... let's go find the others."

With that, he set his jaw and carefully sat up, leaning back on his hands. Bracing himself as Ralph took the back of his shirt between two fingers, Felix gasped as he was lifted into the air and swiftly placed in Ralph's other hand. The pain in his leg was almost unbearable! Doubling forward in Ralph's palm and closing his own hands around his battered leg, Felix exhaled sharply, and Ralph was mercifully still for a moment until the handyman could breathe again. He pulled his gloves off and his hands hovered over the wound. It was too dark to see it, but as he pressed his palms against it, Felix hissed in pain and a shudder shook his frame. He could feel the pixels sliding between his fingers as they bled from the injury, and he had to fight down the urge to hyperventilate again.

Ralph hesitated. "You okay?" he asked after a moment, and Felix nodded, his teeth clenched.

"Let's go," he said, turning to give Ralph a pained look. "The sooner we find the others, the sooner we can fix this, right?"

Ralph smiled, nodding firmly. "Right," he said, and started forward, stepping carefully over the uneven ground and making an obvious effort not to jostle his passenger too much.

Felix didn't have the heart to tell Ralph that he wasn't even sure this was something that could be fixed. Even now, he could feel the pixels bleeding out of his code--that must have been the cause of the dizziness. He didn't really understand the details of what happened when a program was truly _damaged_ , but he knew that broken coding could be fatal in a hurry.

How long could he survive with this break in his source coding? How much saturation could he lose before it erased him? How much time did they _have_ to find the others and find his hammer?

Would it be enough?


End file.
